To the End of All Things
by Destiny Kitty
Summary: Achilles's thoughts as he resigns himself to death. AchillesXBriseis. Spoiler, bloodshed, oneshot.


**Disclaimer:** Apparently Troy belongs to Warner Brothers.

**- TO THE END OF ALL THINGS -**

The beach is oddly quiet as I sit in front of my tent, watching the sea. Men move around, hiding the evidence of our retreat and creating the story Odysseus spins for the Trojans.

I am still, mourning the war and the deaths it has brought. Odysseus has visited to check on me, but mostly he plays with his horse contraption. I wish we could talk, but he prefers his plots and plans. Perhaps I don't really want to talk anyway.

Eudoris has noticed my sorrow, but there is nothing he can do about it now. He only looks sad when I tell him to go home, tell him that I do not want our men involved with the ending of this war. They would stay with me, but I insist. I am their captain, and they must follow my orders.

I would not see them dead.

So much destruction has taken place on this beach. It is a war, and I suppose they always will turn out this way. But among those things burnt or ravaged or killed is my will to fight.

When I returned to our beach, victorious over the man who murdered my cousin, I was greeted in my own tent by tears for that man. He was her cousin, I gather. My rage was spent, so I could only sit and listen to Briseis cry, feeling hollow inside. There was nothing left. She would not let me touch her, stained by the blood of her own brave cousin; she ran from the tent to the sea when I tried to approach her. I did not see her again until Priam came to beg from me his son's body.

There she stood, tear-stained and worn-out but still beautiful. Her uncle bade that she come with him, and I also told her to go. Her eyes followed me as she rode away on the chariot bearing her cousin.

I sent my Myrmadons away too. I promised them victory, honor, glory and eternal memory – what of those shall stand time's test?

My heart is dried out, merely an empty husk. Anything that once meant something is lost to me. Priam said my father was lucky not to have seen this war. That tore at my heart; this man had known my father while I had not, and had sat serenely counseling me when I had killed his own heir.

Odysseus asks me to accompany him in his ridiculous contraption. I agree. He is the only friend I have left here, not that I had many in the beginning. Most men are just terrified of me, men like the kings who started this stupid war.

I sit, cooped up in a horse fashioned from the wood of burnt ships. I am not bothered by the heat and the smell, for my mind is heedless of my body. I am only aware of my sense that everything is drawing to a close, inevitably, irresistibly.

Everyone is dead, gone. Many of my Myrmadons, my friends and closest followers, have been killed. The rest I sent on to safety. That idiot Menelaus who lost his wife, he was one of the first to die, and I was happy for it. Hector – he was a good man; I found that out in the end. And Patroclus.

Patroclus, my dear young cousin, I raised you for war. It was what I lived for, and you followed me. Now it will be both our deaths.

Nothing matters anymore. I know that I will die; everyone will at some time, and most during this last assault on the city. I do not care for the city, but for Briseis. I have to find her. When we are inside Troy, I will look for her and I will make sure she finds safety.

The Trojans fall for the ruse, and the horse is brought inside the walls. Why must they invite their own death into the very heart of their home? But all this is accomplished by unknowing, whether consciously or not. That is the edge of the blade which allows victory.

There will be no victory for me, only that she be safe. Briseis, I'll find you.

We sneak out of the ship in the dead of night. All is silent, quiet as the grave – that is, until Odysseus's men let in the Greek army. Then there is an endless, growing wave of screams, terror and shock combining as the smell of death wafts into the air.

I don't think, for I never do in battle. If I took time to consider all that happens in these bloodbaths, I would probably lie down and never get up. I know men who have done such things, who have run from the front. Patroclus was so upset when I wouldn't let him fight, but I didn't want him in the midst of this. I wished to protect him from this terror.

I don't think, I am merely reacting as I run into the palace. Some soldiers try to stop me. One dies. The other begs his life, saying he has a son. Then get him out of Troy, for it is a dying city. I run, calling and asking for Briseis as I go.

There she is, alone. No, not alone. That leach Menelaus is with her. I race forward.

He is dead, stabbed through the throat by her blade. I feel no pity for the monster sprawled across the ground. We are together. She must escape.

An archer appears, and Briseis is screaming. Paris looks nothing like his brother, except in the determination now set on his face.

All I know is deep, penetrating, excruciating pain.

Briseis cries over me. This is not how things should happen. She should be running from Troy, fleeing for her life. She must survive.

Paris takes her. I can see fear in his eyes as he looks down on me, but he will save her, his cousin. I will remain here, in the ruin that was the palace of Troy, surrounded by flames and the screams and smell of the dead and dying, the surroundings I have been forced into my whole life, because of an accident of destiny.

I go now to meet my father, and Patroclus.

So falls the angel of death.

------------------------------FIN------------------------------

I started writing this a month ago, the last time I watched this movie. Last night I came back to it and finally wrote the end, when I was supposed to be writing a paper for my world lit class. From my first thoughts, the whole idea revolved around the last line.

Please R&R


End file.
